


A good place to sleep

by fannish_writer



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Roci Fam, Sleep Deprivation, Spoilers for season 4/book 4 (Cibola Burn), Team as Family, alluded reference to child abuse in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24716482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannish_writer/pseuds/fannish_writer
Summary: "Ilus was already three days behind them and, unlike Holden, who had slept for 24 hours after making sure that his crew was safe and sound on the ship, Amos still had not been able to sleep so far."
Relationships: Jim Holden & Naomi Nagata & Amos Burton & Alex Kamal
Comments: 33
Kudos: 72





	1. Prologue

((Amos))

Ilus was already three days behind them and, unlike Holden, who had slept for 24 hours after making sure that his crew was safe and sound on the ship, Amos still had not been able to sleep so far. In the med bay, the sight of battered but still breathing Murtry had kept him angry enough to not succumb to the painkiller’s pull into unconsciousness. Instead, maintaining a death glare on the prisoner, he had kept himself awake by thinking about how he could convince Holden to allow him to shoot that asshole. A prison sentence on Luna, no matter how lengthy it would be, did not seem to be enough of a punishment for the epic clusterfuck on Ilus. Amos had no doubt whose fault it was that they had all ended up in those damn tunnels, slowly getting blind, fighting a desperate battle against those slugs. A lot of people had died because Murtry had not cooperated with Holden, had not followed the orders of his company. Instead of protecting his crew and looking out for the more helpless of the settler group, he had thought it more important to quench his thirst for personal power and control. Scratch shooting him – simply spacing that waste of human being would suffice. Shame that Holden would not agree to it, though.

After his new fingers were finally finished growing, Amos went to Murtry’s cell and paid that bastard back for making him shoot Wei by whaling into him. The mechanic figured that Holden wouldn’t object to a simple beating. The captain himself had after all shot the guy.

After that he took a shower, went to his cabin, laid down and told himself that he had done all that he could do and that he should sleep now. However, as soon as he closed his eyes, he was back in the tunnels and the feeling of being blind again started to overwhelm him. And with the darkness came the men. His eyes flew open. He couldn’t see. A tightness constricted his chest. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Fuck, was he blind again? Had Okoye’s remedy stopped working? Disoriented, he fumbled for the wall, swung a leg out of the crash couch and stood up hastily. His hands went up to his face. Before he could take another step away from the couch, his sight suddenly cleared and he made out the shapes of his dimly lit cabin. The air rushed out of his lungs and he collapsed back down, his heart pounding and a trickle of sweat running down his face. Fuck. With a shaky hand he wiped his face, then he stood up and took out the bottle of whisky he had stashed in the locker and took a long swig. This would take the edge off. Hopefully.

When he was finally drunk enough to close his eyes again, the darkness behind his eyelids conjured up the time in the cellar, he thought to have long buried for good, and made him relieve some of his worst visitors. And that was just a shitty thing to do for his brain because he hadn’t actively tried to stir this shit up. Upon leaving Baltimore, Amos had made a deal with his mind. He wouldn’t bother it with too much reminiscing and soul-searching and, in turn, his head would stay a quiet place memory-wise. The deal had been that things like the cellar were supposed to remain on Earth.

Also, and this came as an unwelcome surprise to him, the Rocinante had now stopped being a predictable environment for him. And that was not good. Amos knew that, as an Earther, he should have struggled more with the monotony and repetitiveness of space travel, especially considering the long hauls and the small crew. He should have chafed at the artificial, man-made environment of space ships, missing the complexity of a natural habitat with changing systems like weather and the day/night cycle. Should have gotten tired of seeing the same three faces everyday. Instead, he had welcomed it. To him, the monotony had always felt good. And, even better, for the past years, the steady hum and intermittent clicks from the Rocinante had become enough of a familiar sound landscape to ease some of the tension building up in his body and mind whenever the next shore leave was still to far away. But now, for the first time, the ship did not bring him calm. Even with the lights on he could not relax enough to succumb to his body’s need for sleep. After a few hours he gave up. His body was still in Churn mode, and his inability to snap out of it was starting to seriously annoy him. As soon as the night cycle was over, he left his cabin and tried to calm down by punching Murtry's face to a bloody pulp again.


	2. Inhale

((Alex))

The sight of Amos kicking Murtry across the room was the last thing Alex expected this morning as he opened the cell to bring the prisoner his breakfast.

“What the fuck, Amos?” The tablet clattered to the floor as Alex rushed into the cell to step between the prone man and his friend, who was clearly out of his mind.

“Get out of the way, Alex. I am not yet finished.”

The calm tone was in such a stark contrast to the violent outburst that had just happened that Alex blinked in confusion and took a second to reassess the situation. He took Amos’ disheveled appearance in – rumpled, sweat-stained clothes, bloodshot eyes and uncombed hair – and realized that something was very wrong. This was not just an altercation between prisoner and guard that got out of hand (to put it mildly). Even though addressing Alex, Amos was staring right passed him, his eyes fixed on the groaning man cursing up a storm on the floor. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, Alex took a step towards Amos, breaking his line of sight and trying to get his full attention.

The tense expression on Amos face reminded him painfully of their fight they had about whether helping the Ganymede refugees was necessary or not. Amos’ whole posture emanated the same dark energy he had right before he had almost thrown Alex down the stairs. Alex desperately wished Holden and Naomi were here, he really didn’t want to be doing this alone. But here he was, and apparently he was the guy who stood between a murderous Amos and the guy who pissed him off. Fuck. 

“Hold on, partner, what is going on here? From the looks of it you have made your point, don’t you think?” Just two buddies having a friendly conversation, nothing to worry about, Alex thought sarcastically. He was a unarmed man trying to talk down an attack dog from ripping his throat out.

Amos let his hands fall to the sides and tried on a disarming smile. It was a frightening sight. “I wasn’t going to kill him. I was just going to rough him up a bit. It’ll help me sleep.” What? That was his attempt at a reasonable explanation? Alex said as much.

“Hell no! I think that man has had enough. Holden will be furious when he finds out you assaulted our prisoner a second time. You’ll have to find another way to sleep. Just take some pills like everybody else.”

Amos opened his mouth, then shut it again and stared at him with a frown. He seemed to calculate his options for a second – and Alex hoped to God that punching him was not one of the options – then shrugged and backed off. 

“If you say so. I’m not gonna take drugs, though. That shit does weird things to my head.”

Alex sighed in relief. “What about exercise?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

And with that, Amos brushed past Alex and left the cabin.

Alex stood there for a second, trying to get his pulse under control. Fuck, was Amos finally snapping for real? It was still a long-ass ride to Medina station – if they made it that far. Before he could freak out in earnest, the pilot decided to concentrate on the problem he could do something about right now. He crouched down in front of Murtry and examined the bruises and bleeding cuts. Luckily, none of them would require stitches. He helped the man up and settled him in his crash couch. With the promise of getting him some painkillers, he closed the door behind him.

In the hallway, Alex pulled out his hand terminal. He needed to call the Cap’n stat.

“Yes, Alex?”  
“Cap’, there is something wrong with Amos.”  
“What do you mean? Is he not feeling well? Has he left the medbay too early?” Holden’s voice was instantly worried.  
“No, physically he’s fine – at least I think so. I just caught him beating the shit out of Murtry – again. He told me it would help him sleep by way of explanation.”  
Holden cursed colorfully. “How’s Murtry doing?”  
“Just some more bruises and smaller cuts. Nothing broken.”  
There was a short silence, and Alex could practically hear Holden thinking through the connection.  
“Where is Amos now?”  
“I don’t know. He didn’t say much when he left.”  
“Alex, can you lock the cell with an additional code? We have to make sure that Amos can’t get to Murtry without our knowledge.”  
Risk containment, good thinking. “On it, cap.”  
“I'm gonna call Naomi. Let's meet in my cabin.”


	3. Hold your breath

((Naomi))

Naomi’s brows furrowed as Amos walked into the galley as she took in the mechanic’s messy appearance and blanker than usual face. He didn’t answer her quiet greeting, heading straight for the kitchen counter. Watching him closely, she noted his hands were shaking slightly as he operated the coffee machine. His knuckles seemed to be bruised. Worry washed over her. The physical state Amos was currently in made it painfully apparent to her that something was very wrong with the usually composed mechanic.

She had been so busy the last days with making sure the Roci hadn’t taken any critical damage because of the rescue maneuver that she hadn’t had the chance to talk to her friend about what had happened on Ilus. At that she felt a pang of guilt. Maybe she had secretly been hoping that by giving Amos space he would find his balance on his own? After all, Amos had enough experience in dealing with his demons. But no, – after everything they had been through together – she had trusted Amos to reach out to her if his usual coping mechanisms weren’t working. So far, he hadn’t mentioned anything, so she decided to give him an opening. Naomi took her cup, walked over to stand next to him, and poured herself some coffee.

“Good morning. You’re up early, you’re shift won’t start for another four hours.”

“Yeah, I know, but I was thinking about how the ultrasonic sensor array has been slightly off ever since we passed the ring gate coming in. So, I figured I’m going to the machine shop and start a thorough maintenance check on the individual sensors to find out why.”

Naomi mentally went through her list of pending maintenance tasks. Amos was right to start on the sensors as they were running behind their normal schedule. Ever since take-off they had been prioritizing the more pressing repair work due to the damages caused by the rescue maneuvers over Ilus.

“Yeah, good idea. They’ll soon come up on our audit schedule. We are not going to break our winning streak of no substantial negative findings just because we’ve put that one off for too long. Although, in our defense, running the diagnostics on each individual sensor is hardly an exciting task.” She tried for levity but her friend didn’t react to her teasing. Instead, Amos simply nodded in agreement, gulped his coffee down in a way that would have probably scalded her throat but didn’t seem to affect him at all, and turned to leave.

She had to be more direct. Naomi stopped him with a hand on his arm and, seeking out his gaze, she let her concern show on her face.

“You’re not looking too well. Have the fingers not grown properly, are they bothering you?”

His face remained blank. “No, I just haven’t slept much.”

She tried again, a pleading tone bleeding into her voice. “Amos, you’ve got something on your mind and it’s weighing you down. Please talk to me before it gets too heavy. I am here for you.”

Amos seemed to hesitate, trying to find the right words. For a second, she thought he would open up. But-

“Don’t worry, boss. I’m handling it. I’ll get some nap time later on.” He obviously thought this would reassure her, even patting her hand lightly to complete the performative assurance. Her heart fell. This was bad. She needed to find another way to make him talk to her. 

Before she could press the issue, Amos shrugged her hand off and left for the machine shop, leaving her behind.

Her hand terminal chirped. “Yes, Jim?”

\--

When Naomi entered her cabin she was slightly surprised to see Alex sitting at the table as well. Holden hadn’t mentioned him when he had called her. Usually, crew meetings happened in the galley, but Jim had only requested her and not Amos. The realization dawned on her that she might not have been the only one to have noticed Amos’ state. And by the looks of the determined faces before her, she concluded that the option of letting Amos take the initiative had just expired. A feeling of resignation washed over her. She steeled herself for the ensuing conversation. Alex and Jim meant well, but they they tended to rush where a slow approach would work better. And she was correct in her assessment.

After Alex had recounted the incident in the prisoner’s cell, he came right to the point.  
“Amos is not well. The man needs to sleep, and he doesn’t want to take no sleeping pills. Maybe we should sedate him.”  
That struck a painful chord in Naomi’s recent memory and she shook her hands vehemently.  
“No, Alex! There is no way we can undermine his autonomy like that! He'll lose his trust in us. You did not see his face after I did that to him on Ganymede. I betrayed him in that moment. No, in his mind sedating him without him asking for it would only be acceptable if we were in immediate danger because of him or if a more pressing matter would be hindered by his state. And to him that’s not the case right now. To him, he’s not hurting anyone because he’s not sleeping so there’s no need for such a measure. Maybe if I give him more work? It might make him tired enough to find sleep.”  
She looked at Jim, who shook his head apologetically.  
“No, I think we’re passed that. He beat up Murtry twice now. We can’t risk another assault, Murtry is still a human being and no punching bag. We all know Amos’ strength. If he gets to him in his current condition, there is a real danger that Murtry might not make it back to Earth.”  
“Yeah, there's only so much the auto doc can fix, “ Alex added dryly.

\--

Naomi sighed in frustration. “We need to give him another outlet to let him deal with Ilus. Any other ideas?”  
“Usually, when he gets this way, he goes off the ship to let steam off but we are still weeks away from the gate. I fear he won't last this long and hurt himself.”  
Alex shot a sharp look at Naomi.  
“You don't think he will go ... off the ship before docking?”  
“No! No, that's not his way. But he might do something, we would feel obligated to prevent or we would regret it afterwards. Or ...” Naomi stopped.  
“Or maybe afterwards we wouldn’t be able to keep Amos on the crew in good conscience?”, Jim added softly.  
She nodded reluctantly and went on.  
“That or he'll do something even he himself will regret and might make him want to leave the ship at the next harbor. If he comes to this conclusion we won’t be able stop him. I - I don't want to lose him either way.”  
“Yeah, me neither,” Alex agreed, urgency creeping into his voice. “I don’t want to lose my brother after all the shit we’ve been through together.”

A somber silence made its way around the room.

Jim sighed. “In any case, I will have to tell Amos that he isn't allowed to go into the prisoner's cell anymore, and he certainly won’t like hearing this... Ordinarily, I would try to get him to talk about what happened in those tunnels, but Alex is right: Amos needs to sleep first. Any talk has to wait until he had preferably 10 to 12 hours rest.”  
“So, sedatives it is?” Alex didn’t look too happy with himself that they had circled back to his initial suggestion.  
“I mean, I could try to convince him to take the sedatives but, in his state, he won’t agree to that. And I can’t just order him to sleep.” To any other ears, Jim might have sounded genuinely disappointed with his lack of tranquilizing willpower, but Naomi knew better. It was clear to her that he felt deeply responsible for Amos’ troubles because of him triggering the alien mechanism with Miller, and that he was honestly frustrated by his apparent inability to help his friend straight away. Although, hearing his angry outburst, an idea started to form in Naomi’s mind.

“Jim, you told me that you were able to calm him down in the tunnels. What happened exactly?”

Jim dragged a hand over his eyes. “It was horrible. Amos was standing really close to the slugs his back was to me. When he didn’t react to me calling him, I touched him on the shoulder. He- he lashed out at me like a cornered animal. I was lucky he didn’t take my head off. I kept talking to him, letting him know that we were in this together. That I needed his help to get everyone to safety.”

He trailed off. When he looked up and saw the expectant faces of his crew members, he threw up his hand in helpless anger. “That’s all I did! But, it’s not the same now. It’s not the tunnels anymore, it’s his head. I can’t talk him out of his own head.”

“Actually, maybe you can,” Naomi hesitated to continue, deeply unsure if her plan would work as it meant that Amos would have to let down some of the walls he had surrounded himself with. Maybe after all the experiences they had shared and survived, he would feel safe enough to do so? Naomi prayed that it would be enough.

“I might know a way to make him sleep but I will need your help with it, Jim.”  
“Of course, anything you need,” Jim’s complete trust in her judgment was daunting to her ever second-guessing mind. She lined out her plan.

When she had finished, Alex looked from her to Jim and back again, then nodded in agreement. “I’ll prepare a sedative.”  
“Alex,” Naomi started.  
“Just to cover all our bases.”


	4. Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: sligthly gory

((Amos))

The machine shop was quiet. Hunched over the table, Amos was staring at a readout on his handheld, which displayed the findings from the last sensor test. The adrenaline of the morning altercation had long since worn off and the exhaustion was back, weighing him down so heavily as if his very bones were trying to drag him to the ground. His mind was sluggish. The numbers on the screen didn’t make any sense, they seemed random as their meaning could simply not penetrate the fogginess behind his eyes. With an annoyed grunt he started back at the top for the umpteenth time. When he passed the first two values, he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to check. He blinked slowly. What was he supposed to check again? Shaking his head in frustration, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut to refocus his thoughts.

When he opened his eyes again, the room was pitch black.

Amos froze. The darkness was impenetrable and surrounded him so completely that not only couldn’t he orientate himself spatially, he couldn’t even feel his own body anymore. He felt disembodied, drifting helplessly in space. And with the helplessness came the fear. The fear that had consumed him when he had been trapped in the dark all those years ago. Soon the door would open. And then, the men would come in.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needed his body to fight back. Working hard to make himself the biggest, strongest guy in the room, he could always count on it to get him out of bad situations. With his last shred of willpower he pushed away the panic that threatened to swallow him whole and focused his mind on recollecting bones and teeth, muscles and blood.

As the door opened, he was ready for them.

A greedy hand grabbed him. As if being invited to an absurd dance, Amos took the hand into his own, kicked the man’s legs out from underneath him and threw him to the ground. Still holding onto the hand, he effortlessly broke his opponent’s arm on the way down. Another hand grabbed him, and he fought back, pouring his fear into blinding rage. The door kept opening, letting more men in. He dealt out devastating, bone-shattering blow after blow, ripping the bastards apart, and crushing their skulls into the ground. They never got a hold on him. He got to them first. This time, he was the monster in the dark.

Amos lost any sense of time. He fought and fought, and the corpses were piling up around him. He couldn’t move his legs anymore, the dead burying him underneath broken bones and torn flesh. He clawed at the dead, trying to push them away from him but they were too heavy. When he took his next breath, his mouth filled with blood. He spat it out. A hand grabbed his shoulder. Using all his remaining strength he punched into the wet flesh in front of him. He heard a scream, it was a familiar voice.

Amos’ eyes flew open. The light was blinding. Everything turned blurry for a second, then his sight cleared up. Naomi was standing in the middle of the machine shop a few steps away from him. Her face had that worried, soft look that usually meant he was in trouble. He felt disoriented, his head hurt. What did he do wrong? He noticed the groaning man on the floor next to him. Murtry? Did he beat him up again? He couldn’t remember, he couldn’t focus on anything. Time was stretching out to infinity.

“Alex, are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just give me a minute. Good thing, he wasn’t really awake and aiming straight. That punch could have taken my head off.”

Amos looked down at the prone man and recognized the pilot, who was rubbing his side with a grimace. Did he hit Alex?

“Amos, can you hear me?” Naomi’s voice was gentle, but she hadn’t come any closer. Was she afraid of him again? He hazily wondered if the time had finally come to pack up and leave. He felt vaguely uneasy about leaving behind Naomi and Holden, and even Alex. Alex. Who he had apparently punched while asleep. Maybe whether he could stay on the Rocinante wasn’t his decision anymore. Maybe leaving was the only solution. He turned to Naomi. She would know what to do.


	5. Exhale

((Naomi))

When Naomi and Alex arrived at the machine shop, Amos was slumped over the table. Though his eyes were closed, his face was set in an angry frown and his body was twitching. This was clearly not a restful slumber. Naomi was just about to approach him when Alex pushed past her – she opened her mouth to tell the pilot to be careful – and clasped a hand on the sleeping man’s shoulder. The effect was the same as if he had emptied out a bucket of cold water onto the mechanic. With a wordless shout, Amos shot up and threw a wide punch at the surprised pilot, who crumbled instantly on the floor.

Naomi went very still. Swearing quietly, Alex rubbed his side but at least he was aware enough of the situation’s volatility and stayed on the floor while Amos was still standing so close to him with fists upheld and wide, unseeing eyes. The tension coming of his tightly coiled body was palpable. He looked like a cornered animal ready to attack again. 

“Alex, are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just give me a minute. Good thing, he wasn’t really awake and aiming straight. That punch could have taken my head off.”

Making sure her posture was as open and non-threatening as possible, she turned to the trembling man. “Amos, can you hear me?” Following the sound of her voice, his gaze finally came to rest on her face. Some of the tension went out of her friend and his arms fell to his side. That was good. “Amos, wake up. It’s me, Naomi. I am here with you.” Amos didn’t answer but simply stared at her with a confused expression.

 _Oh, Amos._ The questioning, bewildered look on her friend’s face made Naomi’s heart ache with sorrow and love for the complicated man. They had been at this point before: him looking at her for guidance – more often than not covered in someone else’s blood – and her carefully considering her words, aware of how much importance he attached to them. His trust in her judgment frightened her. It was such a great responsibility to bear that sometimes she wondered if she was really capable of carrying it or even wanted to. To be responsible for another human being was a frighteningly daunting task – one she had failed at in the past and still suffered for it. Naomi shoved the thought back down before the grief washed her away. Back then, she had chosen to escape her miserable existence to reclaim herself. The price for this decision she would keep on paying until the end of the life she had regained. 

She smiled gently at Amos. This was her choice as well. By choosing this ship as her home, she had accepted to be part of this crew. More importantly to her, her new family had eventually come to accept her as well – for who she was. Ever since boarding the Rocinante under gun fire, they had grown closer as a unit, each of them choosing the other three over anybody else. They had demonstrated this commitment by simply not getting off the ship at the next port, or in her case, by coming back to the Rocinante. Caring for her family was not such a burden as it had been with others because they cared for her in return. And now her dear friend needed her.

Moving slowly,  Naomi  laid her hand on Amos’ upper arm and pushed him gently toward the  machine shop  exit. To her relief he did not resist her and simply stumbled along beside her. She focused on keeping her grip firm,  guid ing him to  Jim’ s  and her  cabin.  The walk was quiet.

Arriving at the Captain's cabin, Amos stopped in the door seemingly confused that she wasn't leading him to his own cabin. Naomi smiled reassuringly at him and nudged him inside. Jim was sitting at the table, hands resting in front of him. She gestured towards the double-sized crash couch she and Jim were sharing.

“It's okay, Amos. You can rest here.”

Amos shook his head. “Can't sleep.” His voice was quiet and defeated. Naomi hadn’t ever heard him so resigned and she hurt for her friend. However, she did not let her sorrow bleed into her voice when she continued talking.

«You will not last to Medina this way and I know you don't want us to drug you. I am begging you, please, sit down with me?»

Finally, Amos let himself be guided to the crash couch and they sat down. Her suggestion to lie down was met with such vehement refusal that she didn’t try to press on. Instead, Naomi made him scoot to the wall so he could lean against it with her next to him. Amos was still tense and fighting hard to keep his eyes open. His breathing was too quick and his hands were in tight fists. After a moment of hesitation, Naomi moved slowly closer to him, her shoulders, hips and legs touching his side. When he didn’t move away from her, she took his left hand in hers and intertwined their fingers hoping that he would remember his own gesture on the dying Donnager and recognize it for what it was: a sign of comfort in a dark moment.

“Amos, this place is safe, I promise you. I am staying here with you - and Jim too. You can sleep. We will keep our eyes open for you.”


	6. Rest

((Holden))

Although Amos didn’t respond to Naomi’s words of comfort directly and the tension was still radiating from every pore, he didn’t withdraw his hand either. Instead, he tightened his grip and dragged her hand up to his chest, clutching it right over his heart. The gesture reminded Holden so much of a distressed child holding onto its favorite stuffed animal that he couldn’t bear to remain this far away from his friend.

Taking his cue from Naomi’s calm demeanor, Holden moved slowly to the crash couch and paused for a second. “I am going to sit down next to you. Is that OK?” Without looking up Amos nodded almost imperceptibly. Mirroring Naomi, Holden sat down on the other side of the trembling man. He let Amos get used to his proximity, taking deep, measured breaths, letting the warmth from his own body slowly seeping into the cold skin of Amos' arm. After a while, he started talking in a low, intimate tone.

“Amos, it’s okay to let go. It’s just the three of us in here and Alex is keeping watch in the cockpit.” He paused. “Actually, I’ll bet he isn’t in the cockpit but rather in the galley preparing a Lasagna for everybody. He seems to be fully convinced that food helps with everything... I am certainly in no position to judge as you have personally pointed out to me on several occasions that without coffee I am not fully functional neither as a captain nor as a human being. In any case, it’ll be good to have the four of us around the same table again.”

H e glanced at Amos. There was no reaction.  H is eyes were fixed on the door,  his breathing still to quick.  Holden went on.

“Do you remember when the water recycler and the back-up system were damaged in the skirmish with those pirates near the ice asteroid? Those miserable two months without showering and cleaning until we finally reached the next safe harbor? The port officials almost threw us out the moment they smelled us. That first shower was heaven. But you know what I was grateful the most? That you fixed the emergency back-up so that at least we had water to drink until we reached safety. Without you, we wouldn’t have made it that far. But here we are, at home. You can sleep now, Amos. You're safe with us. ” After a brief pause, Holden went on to the next story.

Besides retelling a few epic adventures to remind Amos how they had saved each other countless times before (so why would it be different this time?), Holden mostly recounted the smaller, peaceful, in-between moments when it was just the four of them and the Rocinante, traveling quietly across the universe.

With his words, Holden conjured up the image of Amos sharing a laugh with the others over family meals, the sound of his boisterous shout of triumph when he won another friendly bet against Alex, the sight of his easy back-and-forth with Naomi while working on complex problems in the machine shop, and the humor of his dry take-downs of Holden whenever he thought that the captain was once again too full of himself.

Although Amos didn’t visibly react to Holden’s words, he still seemed to focus on the familiar tales of their life on the Rocinante. Gradually, Amos' breathing became slower, deeper. His sight became unfocused, his bruised eyes staring into the empty space. Holden felt his friend’s body slowly relax, his cold skin turning warm under his touch.

But when his head dropped abruptly, hitting his chin on the chest, Amos shoot up again, eyes wide open and body tensed up anew. Deliberately, Holden put an arm around his shoulders and drew him into a one-sided embrace, tucking his head underneath his chin. Naomi moved closer so as not lose physical contact.

“Amos, go to sleep, you’re safe. We are here. We will stand watch for you.” Holden murmured calmly into his ear. Then he kept on talking, launching into a story of how one time Alex and Amos had tried to set up a zero-gravity bowling game in the cargo bay, and how Naomi had been kicking their collective asses in every round.

After a few minutes, Amos’ head tilted to the side and rested heavily on the other man’s shoulder. At last, his eye lids dropped, his body relaxed, his breathing became deeper and slower. Holden and Naomi exchanged relieved looks. After three whole days of fighting it, Amos was finally asleep.

Holden glanced at Naomi and at her nod, he carefully accommodated Amos on the crash couch. All the while, Amos did not let go of her hand, so Naomi settled down next to him. He looked over the sleeping man, who had worried him so much, and let his own anxiousness go.

Upon noticing that Naomi had also fallen asleep,  Holden pulled a blanket over the two and sent Alex a message that  Amos  was resting . He then made himself comfortable in a chair next to the couch, feeling for the first time  fully  at peace ever since they had landed on Ilus. The healing process had just started and would take time but they had enough of that on their trip back to Sol system. And as long they trusted each other, the ir life on the  Roci was enough. 

Amos slept through the rest of the day and through the whole night. Holden and Naomi took turns lying next to him. Neither left the cabin for more than the few minutes it took to go the head. Although Amos’ sleep was deep and without interruptions, they certainly didn't want to risk letting him wake up alone.

It was early morning when Holden felt the mechanic getting up quietly and stepping away from the bed. He expected him to leave immediately and he mourned the loss of closeness. Apparently, Amos had found back to being his guarded self. But then, the noise of movement stopped. Holden opened his eyes to see Amos looking at him with a thoughtful expression that didn’t give away anything. Holden smiled sleepily at him and to his surprise the mechanic returned it.

“Thanks for making me sleep, cap’n.”

“Whenever you need it, Amos.”

Amos simply nodded and left the room. With a content feeling, Holden went back to sleep.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

After that, it took Amos still a few weeks to fully integrate in his mind the breakdown induced by the temporary blindness in the tunnels. The others helped him with the processing – each in their own way.

After graciously accepting Amos’ apology for punching him, Alex invited him up to the cockpit to let him fly around a small asteroid and shoot it to smithereens. Watching the destruction helped him take the edge of the trapped feeling and he reveled in the satisfying joy that came with physical violence. Even Alex casually commenting on how lifeless rocks in the vacuum made for much better target practice than a certain pilot, whom a certain crew definitely needed to reach the next port, couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. After that, Alex also made him watch a ton of neo-noir movies with him, all the while commenting on bad editing choices, pointing out plot holes and praising good character writing.

Amos enjoyed these relaxing hours because Alex made it so easy to view the ship not only as a means of transportation but also a place to call home. A place for watching bad movies, for squabbling over who ate the last real cheese, and for betting on how many swear words Crisjen Avasarala had managed to fit into her latest message to Holden.

For her part, Naomi kept him close during work hours giving him enough tasks to keep his mind and hands busy. Her warm and unobtrusive companionship was a steady reminder of how stable his life had become with her. At some point, he told her about the dark cellar in Baltimore. She hugged him for a long time after that.

Having experienced the hopeless hours on Ilus next to him, Holden offered compassion and understanding when it came to the darkness and the ghosts inhabiting it – even if Amos’ specters were from the past and not actually manifesting in front of him thanks to the protomolecule. In a quiet moment, they toasted to Miller and to the fact that the restless souls of Eros had finally found release from their undead torment.

Holden and Amos also talked about their home planet and Earth-specific things that Naomi and Alex wouldn't understand. How space was just different on Earth, more chaotic, not everything built with a purpose in mind. Sometimes those wild spaces had given them freedom from obligations and peaceful solitude, and sometimes the wilderness meant lawlessness and danger.

For Holden, the big forests around his home had often been a refuge from the loving surveillance by eight parents. For Amos, it was a day spent alone or with Erich, roaming around in the streets of Baltimore and drinking cheap alcohol on the pier.

Either way, those undefined places held a promise of vast unpredictability, regardless of how good or bad those things might turn out.

Amos thought that, in a way, the same applied to his mental space; he wasn’t always sure what was hidden in the depths of his mind. However, the good memories being rare, it usually was a choice of remembering something bad or not remembering anything at all. So he opted for the later.

Reminiscing about the Earth made him remember why he had sought out the confined room of a spaceship, the repetitive routine of long hauls and the familiar faces of a small crew. To him, the best way to mitigate the chaos in his mind was by keeping his life as predictable as possible.

There were still bad days, when the darkness weighed too much. He would then knock at the captain’s cabin and sleep there, in the warm space between the wall and Holden or Naomi. Sometimes he would ask; sometimes they noticed first and reminded him that the door was always open. Every time, he took them up on the invitation. The bed was warm, the person next to him was familiar, and nothing bad ever happened. It was a good place to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the commentators, thank you so much for your inspiring words and kudos! I wouldn't have had the courage to finish this story without you! <3 As this story has not been proofread by another person, I appreciate all feedback to make this or the next story better. :)
> 
> Take care of yourself in these challenging times!


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